


half a step behind

by songbird97



Category: Free!
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Personal Growth, Pre-Relationship, Romance, aka that in-between-seasons scene i've been wanting to write for the longest time, kind of them building their friendship back up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbird97/pseuds/songbird97
Summary: Haruka isn’t expecting the knock on the door, but then, he hasn’t been expecting anything from Rin lately. Alternatively, the first of many very small steps taken forward in a friendship only partially mended. Written for day six of RHWeek 2017.





	half a step behind

**Author's Note:**

> i've been posting/talking with people about writing this fic for literal months now, and i'm finally putting my money where my mouth is! takes place in between seasons one and two, but closer to the first.
> 
> thank you to [Sierra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sierra) for beta-ing!! thanks to her, my work won't be marred with errors, as it usually is. ♡

Haruka isn’t expecting the knock on the door, but then, he hasn’t been expecting anything from Rin lately.

Rin has said hello, a quiet  _ hey  _ to meet Haruka's when he'd first opened the door and seen him there, but he says nothing now. It's raining, a backdrop painting the rest of the town grey and making Rin look shadowy, but still, he's so much brighter than anything else. Haruka's grown used to feeling helpless around Rin, but he thinks almost immediately that this is a very different kind. 

He feels awkward in the doorway, that is, watching Rin standing in the rain with just a hoodie to cover himself, but not knowing if it’s right to invite him in. Rin doesn’t look like he really wants to, anyway. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here at all, actually, and Haruka’s barely said anything but still feels like his mouth is full of cotton, like he's been trying to say too much too fast. 

"Sorry," Rin says, facing Haruka but looking past him instead of at him, over his shoulder and away. "I was ... I wanted to, talk. To you. If that's okay."

Haruka blinks.

"If it's okay," Rin says again, shifting on his feet.

Helpless was the right word. Haruka can't think of the last time he and Rin had a conversation that wasn't laced with venom or tears, but also doesn't think this is a good enough reason to say no. He doesn't really want to say no, either, so he says, "It's okay," and he opens the door the rest of the way, what little it has left to slide. He's starting to feel the spray of rain on the tops of his feet. "You can come in."

Finally Rin looks at him, but only briefly—his eyes meet Haruka's, then go in the other direction, his brow furrowing. "I was thinking we could go somewhere else."

Rin really isn't wasting any time, and Haruka doesn't know if he should feel glad or uneasy. On one hand, the Rin he knows now is still so different from the Rin he knew when they were kids, who smiled so wide and cared so much about the people around him—although Haruka supposes he'd gotten a glimpse of that under a barren tree, with shaking arms around his neck, taking his breath away again. But on the other hand, this colder, faded Rin smudges away just as quickly as he becomes familiar. When he is straightforward like this, Haruka aches for the fire he knows should come with it.

There had been a time that he'd doubted it, but he's seen it now: the fire. He knows, now, that it hasn't gone away. 

"It's raining out."

"Shouldn't that just be more of a reason for you to come?"

The jab doesn't go over Haruka's head, and he frowns, but doesn't exactly feel offended. Rin hasn't said it harshly. Haruka looks back into his house, and can't think of any reason he should refuse, so he nods.

"Give me a minute."

Rin says nothing, staying in the doorway while Haruka goes, but he does come in enough that the rain stops hitting him, taking his hood down and shaking out his hair. Haruka thinks, distractedly, that it's getting very long, as he searches in the closet for an umbrella. 

When he's ready, Rin's watching him, back leaned up against the doorway, head tilted towards his chest. If he didn't look so alert, Haruka might think he was exhausted, with the way he slumps.

"You got an umbrella," Rin says, expressionless, then breaks into a small smile and snorts. "I'm actually disappointed."

But the words are weighed down by whatever's brought Rin here in the first place; it doesn't quite make Haruka feel like he's walking on eggshells, but it's close. Rin doesn't sound sad, which Haruka thinks is good, or is at least some sign of progress, but there's nothing eager in his eyes, either. He's careful when he steps out beside Rin and shuts the door, realizing with a shred of awareness that he'd forgotten to respond.

So it's belated when he says, "You're dripping." He opens up the umbrella, and Rin looks momentarily shocked, but it dims into something like quiet relief. Haruka doesn't know how to decipher what he'd been expecting out of this.

Rin turns away before he gets a chance to figure it out, and his voice sounds like light coming through cracked glass. "Thanks."

Haruka feels embarrassed by it for some reason, maybe regretful now of the decision, and looks away, too. "Where did you want to go?"

"I just wanted to take a walk, I guess? Shit weather for it, though. Didn't really think of that." It sounds like his mouth is tensed up, but Haruka still isn't looking. Rin starts walking, so he does, too. "Whatever. We can stop for coffee somewhere."

Haruka's only had coffee once, and he'd thought that chewing on a leather shoe might taste better, but he doesn't say this. The sound of the rain hitting the umbrella is deafening in their conversational silence, though, and Haruka can think of many things to ask, but few he wants to actually say aloud. It should be Rin's turn, anyway, but Haruka glances at him and doesn't get a glance back; Rin is looking in the other direction entirely.

With a glance at the sky, Haruka asks, "Why didn't you bring your own umbrella?"

And he is immediately rueful, horrified that he could fit so much of his own foot into his mouth, but when Rin turns back, he's smiling honestly. "Jeez. If you hate sharing so much, I'm not forcing you."

"I didn't mean—"

"I know," Rin says easily, though his smile fades. "I'm not really all there today, if you haven't noticed. I kinda just left my house without thinking about it much. Probably 'cause I've been shutting myself in for the past few days. I guess I got a little stir crazy, you know?"

Haruka didn't know that, and also doesn't know how he could have. Rin hasn't reached out to him once since the relay, and even Kou's been quiet on the matter. For reasons he also didn't know, and wanted to ask about, but wasn't sure how. He kicks his toes into the ground a little too much in one step, sending a few pebbles flying. "Why haven't you been leaving the house?"

Rin's shoulders fall and rise, a half-hearted shrug. "Had some things to think about."

 _Things like the relay?_ Haruka wonders.  _Things like us? Swimming with us? Swimming with me?_

He asks, "Was Mikoshiba mad?"

Rin actually grins, throwing Haruka a sidelong glance brimming with something that looks very pleased. "He wasn't. No, seriously—I mean, he was at first, a little. But he understood, I think. I'm still on the team, anyway, and that's what really matters."

Indeed. Haruka didn't know he'd been waiting to hear that, but the relief that comes with the knowledge that Rin will keep swimming is almost overwhelming. "Yeah," he says, amazed that some of it doesn't find its way into his voice.

And Rin's smile looks nervous, suddenly, partially faltering. "Yeah." He quickly looks forward again. "Um, so I'll probably see you around more. I mean, at competitions or whatever."

He says it passively, but there's something that's tentative and unsure that Haruka kind of hates he picks up on, because it's all starting to make him feel unsure, too. Still, he feels he has an easier time finding words that Rin does, and produces a smile for good measure. "Okay."

For a second Rin's eyes flick to it, but it doesn't last. His shoulders raise like he's being charged with the breath he takes, and then drop. "You guys didn't get into any trouble for being disqualified, did you?"

"No," Haruka says. It isn't the entire truth. "Not really. The school board isn't paying us attention unless we win, and Amakata-sensei wasn't mad for very long." _We had a good reason_ , he doesn't say. The club is going to keep going. They still have next year. It was Rei's sacrifice and not his own, so he doesn't think he has the right to not regret it, but he still wouldn't change anything about what happened. He's hoped that the others feel the same.

"That's good," Rin says. "I mean, that you didn't get in trouble. I'm glad."

"Hm."

They slip into a longer silence, and it carries them down to the streets. The sky is grey as far as Haruka can see it stretch, and puddles have gathered along the edges of the sidewalk, so trying to avoid stepping in them makes them both look childish. Haruka imagines one of them slipping, water coming up in a miniature wave and soaking them both. He imagines the look on Rin's face, shock and amusement, dripping sleeves and hair, and thinks that it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen.

"Do you want me to hold it?"

"What?" Haruka says, before he gives himself a chance to register. Rin is looking up at the umbrella; his eyes are clouded over a little, but it's hard to pinpoint with the way the light's reflected in them. He shrugs.

"You've been holding it a while."

It's been maybe ten minutes since they left the house, but even Haruka can admit it's felt longer. He's suddenly aware of the weight of the umbrella, thin and top-heavy in his palm. "I don't mind."

He doesn't get a chance to suspect that Rin was only offering to fill the silence, because Rin reaches over and takes hold of the handle, right beneath where Haruka's hand is still holding it. He is looking straight at Haruka when he says, "I don't either."

It would be a pointless thing to fight about, and Haruka doesn't really want to turn this, whatever it is, into something to be angry about anyway.

"Okay," he says, and carefully lets go. Rin dutifully holds on to the umbrella, and for a few moments his gaze remains on it, too, where Haruka's hand had just been previously. Haruka doesn't come to a verdict on this, though, before the moment has passed and Rin is looking forward again. Their relationship is steadily built on window after window of opportunity to say the right thing at the right time, and it's something Haruka's never been able to master.

Maybe he can now, he thinks.

Maybe, he thinks, that Rin coming back has been his window all along.

There's something in the thought of it that both calms and exhilarates him; a future with Rin in it, in front of him, happening now and that keeps happening. A happier Rin, that might challenge him in old ways and new ones, that keeps reaching for the stars. It's the familiar side of Rin, slowly but surely coming out of his hardened shell, that dulls this change into something a little less frightening than it would be otherwise.

But it is still change, still something he has to get used to. They both have to get used to. And Makoto, Rei, and Nagisa, and probably Kou, too. He risks another look at Rin, who is looking out at the ocean, and in the relaxed edges of his face Haruka can pinpoint exactly where his childhood features grew into something older. His eyes don't have that constant frustrated anger anymore, just something pensive, and always unsure, so often, all the time. It's better, but it isn't _good_ yet. And Rin is trying. Haruka can tell that he is trying so hard.

He feels a pang in his chest, can only hope that it isn't pity because Rin deserves more than that. And because he's been staring too long, looks in the other direction, focuses his attention on the overflow coming off of passing rooftops. He has nothing to say, which isn't uncharacteristic, but it still feels wrong. 

Without looking at each other, they both move to avoid puddles on either side of the sidewalk, and their shoulders bump enough to be slightly jarring. Rin mutters an apology, which Haruka echoes. His face feels hot, and now he's thinking it's a good idea to toss himself into one of the puddles.

"So," Rin starts saying, severing Haruka's thought process. "I never really asked you how you've been. All this time. I mean, when I was away ... before I came back."

Haruka doesn't see why that matters now, but nods. "Okay."

"I never asked," Rin says again, eyes shifting. "So, um, shit. I mean. I'm asking now?"

Oh. Haruka looks down at his feet while they walk, suddenly feeling like he needs something to do with his hands. "Nothing exciting happened."

"Nothing?" Rin echoes, and the elbow Haruka receives in the side feels tentative. "I was gone for four years, you know."

"I wasn't swimming," Haruka says quietly. "Not really. Not for long. And Nagisa went to a different middle school, so we didn't see him again until this year. There were others, but they went to different high schools. It was really just me and Makoto. But it was fine. I was fine." He thinks of gentle hands and a gentle smile, and feels a dull ache. "My grandmother passed away. Not long after you left."

Rin's voice goes soft. "I heard," he says. "I'm sorry."

Haruka shrugs. It's something he doesn't feel very sad about anymore, or at least not usually, but it's also something he tries not to think about too often.

"What about your parents?"

"They travel," Haruka says, grateful for the subject change. "Mostly for work, but sometimes just because they can. I'll get postcards from them every now and then. Phone calls, too."

"Do they ever come back?"

"Sure. Sometimes." Rin stops asking questions to make a noise, and Haruka seizes the chance. "How's your mother?"

"Worried," Rin answers, not even bothering to look surprised by the question. "She always worries, though."

Haruka doesn't hold his tongue in time. "About you?"

Rin lowers his chin, looking shameful; Haruka feels guilt nip at his insides. "About me, yeah. Gou, too. My mom'd worry about the sun not rising in the morning if she were given enough reason, Haru." The guilt must show on Haruka's face, because Rin smiles. "It's fine, though. Jeez, don't look so concerned. Doesn't your mother ever worry?"

Haruka keeps frowning, but for a different reason now. He'd been trying not to think of it, but, "Not really."

They're going in circles; a cycle of attempts to make conversation coming to an awkward close, only regret seeps further and further in with every word they say. He knows this because it's Rin's turn to look guilty, or maybe concerned, or whatever else it is that makes him wince like he's doing. Haruka doesn't like it at all.

He waits until he's stepped over a considerable puddle, feeling the kick of it on the back of his heels, and asks, "Is it fine?"

Rin's footsteps splash quite a bit more, and Haruka's mouth pulls up at the corners when he swears, before his attention is caught. "It is. I just ... haven't really been the greatest son lately. You know. I'm trying to make up for it now, but."

He doesn't finish the sentence. The rain has started to pick up even more, a momentary burst of a downpour, and they're nearly shoulder-to-shoulder under the umbrella, but the silence weighs the air down more. 

Feeling like he's making a gamble, Haruka says, "I'm sure she knows that you're trying."

The smile he gets from Rin is sad, but it still feels like what he's said was okay. "I know. You're right."

It is a contagious look, and soon Haruka's smiling, too. It is such a foreign picture, the two of them sharing an umbrella and smiling at one another, one that Haruka wouldn't have dared to have thought could happen at any point over the last few months. He feels a swelling in his chest, an almost-giddiness, feels it spread down to his fingers and burn like it hasn't since he was a kid. But there's something addictive in it, as well, that warns Haruka not to let it burn too bright. Something like paranoia, maybe, from feeling left behind again and again.

The sudden thought is like being doused with something very cold, and he snaps his gaze back to the sidewalk, hoping very hard that it doesn't look odd to Rin. He isn't here to think about things like that. Probably. Rin still hasn't told him exactly why.

But what do they even have left to talk about? Haruka can't think of anything, or at least anything that it isn't too late to talk about. He would have liked this chance maybe when Rin first came back, but now it feels pointless. Or his unwillingness is making it seem pointless. He's made a few exceptions as of late in deciphering emotional patterns, including his own, but he's still not exactly in the habit.

"Hey, Haru." Rin is close again, and he doesn't bother taking his free hand out of his pocket, just jerks his chin up to point a few blocks down. "Let's stop there."

The cafe is warm, and small, and boasts few customers, save for a group of younger kids in the corner snickering over an open magazine. The smell of coffee is nice, at least, and the warmth is easy to settle into in spite of the simmering oddness. Haruka feels like there is a right way to react to this, but doesn't know what it is. 

They take a table near the door, and Rin buys himself coffee, then buys Haruka tea he didn't ask for. It's silent and somewhat embarrassed, the way he sets it down and slides it over, and he says nothing, so Haruka doesn't, either. Just takes the cup in his hands and swallows his pride for the sake of whatever conversation might be brewing under it all.

Because Rin is determined, and Haruka can see it, in the stiffness of his shoulders and the way his eyes keep shifting. Determined about saying something, which must mean it's difficult to say, which in turn tells Haruka that it is probably something he does not want to hear. It is exhausting to think like this, but Haruka can either stay here and hope for progress or leave, and he doesn't think the latter would go over very well. 

He likes the tea, anyway.

"Um," Rin says, and says nothing else, and Haruka thinks he could likely suffocate himself with the discomfort if he tried. 

He blurts, "How are you?" And he doesn't mean to say it, although he is curious, and doesn't think it's necessarily a bad thing to ask. Still, Rin looks stunned, tempering his expression quickly and glancing to the side.

"Fine," he says, opening his mouth to continue and ending up clearing his throat instead. "Better. You know."

Haruka nods, because this he does know, or had figured. "You weren't fine before," he says, muffled with the plastic cap of his tea.

Rin keeps staring out the window, eyes very far away. "No."

He likely admits it only because he can't deny it, but still, Haruka feels the need to ask. "What happened?"

Rin's fingers start drumming on the table. "Ryugazaki didn't fill you in?"

"He told us what he knew," Haruka says. He leaves the obvious part unspoken:  _I wanted to hear it from you_.

"There isn't really anything else to it," Rin says. "I hit a wall. Failing wasn't really something I was used to at the time, so when it became a constant it kind of messed me up. Does something to you, going from feeling like you can do anything to feeling like you're worthless."

Something painful twists into Haruka's chest. "Rin."

A smile that looks just as painful works its way onto Rin's face. "It's fine. Really, Haru. I'm working on it."

Haruka fidgets with the cup. "What happened then?"

Rin takes a long breath. "This one time my mom called me, she sounded upset. Not with me or anything, but more upset than usual that I was gone, and unhappy. And Australia wasn't exactly doing me any favors anymore, so I came home." He shrugs. "Seeing you guys again was one thing, but it was another to hear that you were all making a swim team. And I was pissed, but didn't really know why I was pissed. And I was selfish, so I didn't really care if any of you got hurt while I tried to figure it out."

Haruka says nothing.

"I took it out on you the most," Rin says, quietly, eyes coming to regard him, sad and nervous. "I'm sorry."

Haruka doesn't want to say  _it's okay_ , but he also understands. And he's already forgiven Rin, anyway. "Don't apologize."

Rin goes quiet, and Haruka thinks that he must understand, too. His eyes are back on the floor and Haruka doesn't know if the change of mood is his fault or just a fault of the situation, but does know that Rin would probably like to talk about something else.

Haruka sits up straight. "Have you talked to the others?"

Rin's eyes snap up, looking equal parts surprised and relieved. "The ... oh. No, I haven't. I mean, not yet, anyway." His fingers keep drumming; he's brought a leg up onto the chair, folded so that his knee nearly reaches his chin. "I don't really know what to say to them."

Haruka can't help but see the implication. "You knew what to say to me?"

Rin smiles, and there's self-deprecation all over it. "I guess you're different."

Unsure of how that's supposed to make him feel, Haruka stares down at his hands. "You don't have to say anything specific. You can just talk to them."

"It's not really as easy as it sounds."

"Why not?"

Rin glances sidelong at him, looking pained. "Haru."

The defense is pointless, but he feels it building anyway. "They're not mad at you. You should talk to them."

"That's not the point," Rin says, and his shoulders start to inch up. 

"Then what is?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to _do_ ," Rin's eyes dart around; he's trying not to make too big of a scene. "I don't care if they're mad at me, they deserve to be, but it's just—I can't just  _be around them_ all of a sudden and pretend like nothing happened."

"You don't have to do that," Haruka says. "But you can't just ignore them either."

"I'm not ignoring them! It's barely been a week!"

Haruka huffs, hating that he always misjudges and pushes too hard whenever he thinks he has a chance. But Rin can be guilty of the same, has been, and how is Haruka supposed to know what to do when Rin always throws his walls up so quickly?

"Haru," Rin says again, air escaping his voice like a hiss. "Don't talk about it like I'm making it harder than it has to be, okay?"

"Aren't you?" Haruka presses, unable to understand. "It's just talking."

"Why are you pressing this?"

"I—" but Haruka doesn't know, so he stops. "I don't know." Rin's stare is frustratingly unimpressed. "You're the one getting defensive. All I said was that you should talk to them."

"I'm not defensive," Rin sighs. "I just need time to sort out my thoughts."

Haruka can't help but bring it up again. "You obviously sorted them out pretty quick with me."

Rin glares; it is chillingly familiar. "If you didn't want to talk to me you could have just told me."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"I'm just trying to understand," Haruka says, voice cracking under the weight of his own frustration. Rin's face is starting to go hot. "They were worried about you too. They were just as confused as I was."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is?" 

"Christ, Haru!" Rin drops his head into his hands. "Can we not fight right now?"

Haruka frowns. "I'm not trying to fight with you."

"Okay. I know that, and I'm not either, but it's happening anyway. So can we stop?"

But the quiet is charged, and it can't last for very long. Haruka feels himself leaning forward. "Maybe fighting is what we need to get somewhere."

"Easy for you to say when I'm the one who's done all the fucking up."

"I'm not blaming you for anything," Haruka says. "I don't like fighting, either."

"Of course you don't." Rin's eyes are hard and cold. "Except for when it's convenient for you, right?"

Haruka stalls, startled by the words and how heavily they hit him. People have started to stare at them, and though he was aware of them before the stares only start to flood heat into his face now. 

“I don’t need this,” he says, and gets up from the table in such a hurry that his chair cracks against the table behind him and several more people turn to look. He catches Rin’s eyes going wide but doesn’t let it anchor him, leaves before he can think to hesitate.

He doesn’t get very far, anyway. He makes it one or two buildings down the road before he hears footsteps stumbling after, and the distress in Rin’s voice is what turns him around.

“Haru! Dammit—hold on!"

Haruka has the very childish urge to throw his hands up in the air—shout _what now?_ or _hasn’t this been enough?_ or maybe just something unintelligible, something like a groan that’s been steadily building for as long as he can remember having lungs to back it up with—but Rin yanks him backwards by his sleeve and the feeling is so backwards-reminiscent that all he can do is snap his head around and stare.

“I didn’t—” Rin looks so ready to say what he wants, but he closes his mouth anyway. Releases Haruka’s sleeve. There’s a too-long moment where they simply look at each other, where the rain starts falling harder, where Haruka wonders why he shouldn’t just keep walking. He could, and probably Rin would let him, with as lost as he looks right now. But the moment ends when Rin looks away.

“You forgot your umbrella,” he says, and sure enough extends it.

Haruka hadn’t noticed and hadn’t cared, and still doesn’t, but takes hold of it without a word. He is ready to end this again, but the second he starts to step away Rin tugs again, using the umbrella for leverage this time, and for a moment Haruka’s most frustrated with the way he stumbles than he is with Rin.

“Rin—”

“Haru,” Rin says, “I didn’t drag you out into the rain to yell at you, okay?”

Haruka narrows his eyes and says, “Then why did you?”

Rin visibly pauses, shoulders dropping. "I don't know," he says, and Haruka scoffs and starts to turn. "Jeez, okay! Stop leaving!" 

"Rin."

"I know," Rin says, exasperated. "I know. You're the easiest one to talk to nowadays, Haru. Okay?"

"But why?"

"Because you understand the most," Rin says. His voice sounds so strained. "The others ... maybe if I knew what to say to them they'd be easier. But I know where to start with you because you're the one who saw."

He doesn't have to elaborate. "The relay wasn't my idea. It was Rei's."

"I'm not talking about the relay."

"I know," Haruka says. "I'm telling you where to start. Thank him."

Quieted, Rin looks honestly surprised, but his expression settles fast. "Okay. I will." But that would be too easy, and Haruka knows it, and he can see that Rin knows it, too. "But I ... I also wanted to apologize. To you."

"I already told you—"

"Not about that," Rin says quickly. "I mean, about that, too, but I also have to apologize to the others for that. With you, though." He stops, pressing his mouth into a hard line. "That day, when we were kids. When I came back, and I told you—"

Oh. Haruka's chest seizes, though he tries not to let it show on his face. It's not a day he likes to think about, even now. "Rin."

"I shouldn't have said that to you," Rin says. "I was—I wasn't thinking. And if I was I might have fucking known what it'd mean to you, and how much damage I was doing, but I didn't. I didn't even consider ..." He takes a deep breath. "You quit because of me."

Haruka kind of wishes, bizarrely, that Rin was still holding onto him. Because maybe if he was, Haruka could convey something comforting through that much better than he's able to with words. "That's not true."

Rin pins him with a look, like,  _don't bullshit me_ , and Haruka clamps his mouth shut. "You did. Or if you didn't, it's not like I helped."

"It wasn't your job to help."

"That isn't the point," Rin sighs, finally taking notice of the rain and pushing his hair back and out of his eyes. "The point is, I never noticed. And when I found out, I never apologized. So that's what I'm doing. I'm sorry." He takes a deep breath, one that his chest rises and falls with. "I'm really fucking sorry, Haru."

This Rin, a sad and apologetic and reconstructed one, is almost harder to watch than when he was wrought with pain and anger and demolition. He is so genuine, saying this, and Haruka feels suffocated in how tight his chest is becoming. 

"But it was my fault," he says, quietly. Rin starts shaking his head before Haruka can even elaborate. "I never asked why you wanted to race. I never asked if you were okay, or reached out to you. It was my fault, too."

"Jesus, Haru," Rin says, and Haruka doesn't really see him move, just registers that at one point Rin is feet away and at another he's got his arms around Haruka's arms and his chin pressed down on Haruka's shoulder. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that? None of it was your fault. None of it ever was. It was all my shit, okay?"

Haruka leans his face down, somehow not minding how cold Rin's jacket is against his neck. "No," he says. "It's not okay."

Rin sniffs, although he doesn't sound like he's crying. Haruka feels him nod. "I know."

Though the rain keeps falling, Haruka feels like the storm has settled. Rin keeps hugging him, long enough for him to get used to it and to tentatively reach up and touch Rin's back, and for a moment after he does this Rin shakes, then stills.

When Rin does pull away, he sniffs again, but his eyes aren't red and the wetness on his face probably isn't anything other than the rain. And he looks sad, but a relieved kind. "Sorry," he says, and Haruka doesn't know which part he's apologizing for, so he doesn't say anything. "That's what I wanted to say. Didn't think it'd go the way it did, though."

Haruka feels the smallest of miraculous smiles pulling at his mouth. "It could have gone worse."

"Yeah," Rin says, and smiles, too. 

It's a nice thing to see. Haruka breathes, and feels something suspended between them snap and fall to the ground, disintegrating by their feet. Then he unfolds the umbrella and holds it over both of them, and Rin smiles more.

And Haruka hates to take it away, but he can't fight away the importance of the words that come to him. He shuffles on his feet and says, "I never blamed you. Even if you feel sorry, I never blamed you for my wanting to quit. I still don't. I just," he stops, because it's embarrassing enough to think, let alone say with Rin staring at him—he turns away. "I was mostly ... worried about you." The ocean is grey and unfurling, blending into the dark clouds. "I was worried you never felt better. But even if you think it was, I never felt like it was your fault."

It takes a second for him to pluck up the courage, but he manages to look back at Rin. And Rin is staring back at him, eyebrows pulled up, and his gaze falls to Haruka's mouth. It's telling; Haruka realizes he's frowning, and thinks that this is probably a terrible thing to do when he's trying to be supportive—he tries to temper it into something more neutral, but Rin must notice because he looks back up at Haruka's eyes, and then looks away, himself.

He huffs. "You're really stubborn, you know?"

Haruka considers, then nods. "Yeah."

Rin looks at him sideways, then bursts into laughter. It doesn't take long for Haruka to smile along. 

The rain is coming down harder again, making the umbrella shake in Haruka's grip. They both notice; Rin's smile is uneasy when he asks, "Can we just go back to your house now?"

They do. This time, the walk is entirely quiet; but it's every bit as comfortable as it wasn't before. They jump over puddles and kick water at each other and laugh. It is so sudden, this change, but Haruka can only like it. 

When they get back Haruka says, "You should really come in, now," because there isn't a part of Rin that isn't soaked through.

Rin hesitates, visibly. "I should get back home."

"You'll get sick," Haruka says. "Besides. Aren't you too stir crazy to go back home?"

Rin's mouth twitches up. He does the same thing he'd done earlier, looks past Haruka into the hallway, although this time he does it much more warmly.

"Come in," Haruka says again, and this time Rin takes the offer. 

Their clothes go into the dryer minutes later, and Haruka's clothes fit Rin fine. Thankfully; he'd been afraid they'd be only slightly too small, and that he'd never hear the end of it. Instead they sit on the floor with bowls of soup and blankets around their shoulders, listening to the rain against the back doors and the tumble of the dryer. Rin's hair is still dripping despite being toweled off again and again, and Haruka's probably more amused by it than he should be.

Rin spins the bowl in his hands, at one point, thoughtfully. Haruka gets a small chance to theorize, and then Rin says, "I'll talk to the others tomorrow," and he just blinks. "To Makoto, at least. Then Nagisa and Ryugazaki, if I have time.

"They'll appreciate it," Haruka makes sure to say, quickly before he changes his mind. Rin looks at him, unsure. "They care about you, too."

He misses the implication up until Rin smiles. But Rin looks away before the redness comes to his cheeks. "Jeez," Rin says, "It's like you're trying to get me to cry."

It isn't true, but Haruka just lifts his bowl to his mouth. "You could if you wanted," he says, and Rin snorts.

Rin wants to leave as soon as their clothes are done drying, which Haruka understands. At the door, he offers Rin the umbrella.

"I have another," he says when Rin lifts an eyebrow, and Rin takes it without saying anything. "You really don't have to leave."

"I should," Rin says. "But thanks."

Haruka shrugs. It doesn't feel right or wrong that Rin is leaving, just neutral, which is foreign, but not unwelcome. He's happy to let Rin decide whatever he wants to do.

"I'll give the umbrella back the next time I see you," Rin says.

"Okay."

"Okay," says Rin. Then he smiles, and Haruka feels something shift inside of him when he realizes that the sight in familiar by now. "I'll see you around, Haru."

And Haruka nods, because this is true. "I'll see you."

Rin rocks back on his heels. He kind of looks like he wants to say something else, but before he does he turns and starts walking away, umbrella overhead as he goes. Haruka watches him, and thinks that this kind of change is good.

He waits until Rin is out of sight to close the door, and realizes that the tops of his feet have gone wet again. In the laundry room, he gets a towel to dry them off.

Two empty bowls sit on the kitchen counter, and he thinks of them. Then he thinks of red hair and a smile he's still getting used to on an older face, a kind charge to eyes he thought he'd never see anything but anger in again. Then he opens every curtain in the house, listens to the rain, and thinks of change some more. Unrelenting, but alright.

In the distance he hears the roll of a train.  _Alright_ , he thinks.  _Alright_.


End file.
